


the kingdom where nobody dies

by heart_nouveau



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Book 2: A Clash of Kings, Character Parallels, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-10
Updated: 2017-01-10
Packaged: 2018-09-16 02:09:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9269009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heart_nouveau/pseuds/heart_nouveau
Summary: Sansa wishes more than anything that, like Myrcella, she could still be the child.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Childhood is not from birth to a certain age and at a certain age  
> The child is grown, and puts away childish things.  
> Childhood is the kingdom where nobody dies.  
>  **Edna St. Vincent Millay**
> 
> Set during A Clash of Kings, before Myrcella leaves for Dorne.

 

The Lannister princess is young, childish, unformed. She is so naïve that Sansa is caught between the urge to shake her by the shoulders and cry a little, that such a girl can exist in the same court as Joffrey and the rest of these murderers and still remain so innocent. 

Myrcella is only three years younger than she is, but they are worlds apart. Cersei Lannister had given her such a long talk about how women must protect their children, and love them, for they are all women have. But Myrcella is Cersei’s child, and she is soft and dreamy and gentle where Cersei is hard and drawn and bitter.

Sansa wishes more than anything that, like Myrcella, she could still be the child. But she is a woman now. She has crossed a painful line. 

Sometimes when Cersei speaks to her, Sansa can see hard creases around her mouth, and she remembers with sudden clarity similar lines around her own mother’s mouth. But Sansa doesn’t think Catelyn would ever speak to another woman’s daughter in the way that Cersei now speaks to her.  _Why don’t you talk to_ your  _daughter like that, Your Grace?_

To one another, Myrcella and Sansa speak very little. She always has a gentle smile for Sansa, one which Sansa is willing to return, but there seems to be nothing to say.

Myrcella is a sweet, serious child. She always has her nose buried in a book. Sansa thinks painfully that perhaps if she had been a little more like that, instead of getting lost in romantic stories, then maybe her head wouldn't have been turned so much by Joffrey’s glamour. Or maybe not.

She walks into the room in the Lannister apartments before realizing it is already occupied. Myrcella is packing belongings into a carved wooden box, sniffling damply as she does so.

“Oh, Lady Sansa,” Myrcella says, looking up. Her golden hair looks messy and her eyes and nose are red. She wipes her nose on the back of her sleeve. “I was just packing my things.”

Sansa nods neutrally and politely.

 _You see, even you have to do things against your will_ , she thinks with satisfaction, then is surprised at her own spite. Myrcella has never done anything to hurt her, she reminds herself. Like her little brother Tommen, Myrcella has always been gentle and kind. The two of them seem as frightened of Joffrey as Sansa is, and she thinks of how awful it would be to grow up with older brothers like him instead of kind loving ones like Robb (and even Jon Snow).

But she relents, and starts helping. Myrcella is folding her things into tiny squares to pack.

“I don’t know what to bring. I don’t know what it’s like in Dorne,” Myrcella says, as if she can’t help but talk. She looks at Sansa with a bewildered expression. “I can’t believe I’ll be without my mother. I’ll miss her so much.”

Sansa folds a piece of colorful silk and says nothing.

“It’s just so far away.”

Sansa still can’t say a word. There is nothing to be said. Myrcella looks up, her eyes all puffy, and her lips part slightly as she gazes at Sansa, perhaps realizing for once exactly who she is talking to.

 _Can you conceive of what I have been through, little girl_? She understands suddenly how Cersei could be cruel. Because in that moment she wants nothing more than to see Myrcella cry, to feel the real twist in her heart that comes with permanent loss.

_I hope they are kind to you in Dorne, Myrcella. I hope these are the only tears you'll have to shed. I hope you never have cry until your eyes are stinging with salt tears. I hope you have a happy life, even if I would rend your brother from limb to limb with my own hands if I had the chance, and I think I'd do the same to your mother, too. Even if I hope your house burns up in flames and every Lannister has to eat shit for the rest of his or her life._

She finishes folding, and sets the piece down with finality.

 _Welcome to womanhood_ , she thinks.

“Fare thee well, Princess,” she says.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I was always fascinated by the parallels between Myrcella and Sansa, since I assumed they were about the same age. No one brought up how they were similar young girls living in the same place, but with such vastly different lives. Or how Sansa was undergoing all this abuse at the hands of Joffrey, while living with Cersei and her children. 
> 
> The second season of the show was when I became obsessed with the characters of Cersei, Sansa, and Margaery. The scenes where Cersei took Sansa under her wing to give her f---ed up life lessons especially sparked my interest; they're what led me to start writing fic for the show. I wanted to explore that through the lens of Cersei's daughter, so this was written around 2012 or 2013. Really, it's a piece about Cersei.


End file.
